Author's Note: Hihi all! Lookey, I'mma wri'in' again! =D Anyways, this is a fanfiction based offa a FABULOUS (and ORIGINAL…well original as far as I know) doujinshi by the marvelous Bohra Naono, called "A Coward's Happiness". This fanfiction is centered and based on the second and third story in that doujinshi called "A Slave of Love" and "Revenge of Love".
Alright, let's see, this is a FrUK, AmeriCan (that is what I call AmericaxCanada xDD), and lotsa other yaoi-ness and smutty-ness. And there are a few OCs in later chapters, I will have their bios up so you're all not like WTF. AND THIS IS A FREAKIN' PAMPLEMOUSSE (anyone who guesses what that is correctly gets a cookie) MEANING IT HAS SMUT~ YAAAY!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers & Hetalia: World Series, nor do I own "A Coward's Happiness" and the stories therein. They are owned by their respective owners, and I merely write and worship those creators' genius. That is all.
Message me for link to the actual doujinshi that inspired this series.
WARNINGS: Contains:
Anal - Anal Sex
Angst - Torment/Anguish
BDSM - Bondage/Discipline/Sadomasochism
Bi - Bisexuality
Blood - Violence to the point of drawing blood
Fingering - manual manipulation of the sexual organs
H/C - Hurt/Comfort
HJ - Hand Job (manual stimulation of one partner's sexual organ)
M/F - Het (heterosexual relations)
M/M - Slash (Male/Male relationship)
OC - Original Characters
Oral - Oral sex
RapeFic/Non-Con - where one of the characters is sexually assaulted
Rim - Rimming (To perform anilingus on)
Solo - Masturbation
Toys - Sexual toys
UST - Unresolved Sexual Tension
Violence - Story contains violence/blood/gore/etc.
Voy - Voyeurism
Bohra Series 2a:
A Slave of Love
Chapter One: "Client Services"
Tap. Tap.
No, it was nothing. Not while there was so much work to do.
Tap. Tap.
Not. Right. Now. There was too much the club needed, and he, being the manager, needed to get things done.
Arthur blinked, the tapping on his shoulder unceasing. Begrudgingly, he looked up from his clipboard, turning to face the one who dared interrupt his work.
"Oi, bloody hell Alfred! Can't you see I've got work to do?" he screeched, the vein in his forehead beginning to throb.
Comically, the one called Alfred bent forward, cupping his hand secretively near his mouth, as to ward away anyone who possibly might want to over hear (or worse lipread) what the dull-witted American had to say. Fittingly, his wheat-gold hair fell over his sky blue eyes, which twinkled with the threat of a possible secret.
"Hey...Arty-"
"Don't call me Arty!" The older interrupted, his vein throbbing even more,
"Whatever! It shouldn't matter what I call you! All that matters is that I'm quitting my part time job today!"
The native Brit took pause after the taller blonde's comment, in disbelief that words had even been uttered. "Hell no!" was his immediate response, "What the hell is this all of a sudden?"
Alfred's cheeks became heated, a soft smile tugging on his lips, "Well,"he replied in a voice as soft and as light as his smile, "I have a lover- W-Whoa!"
It was in times like these that the smaller man showed exceptional strength, dragging Alfred into the back room as if he were a pull toy.
"What do you mean you have a lover?" was the first thing that was said once they were in the secure area, free from any unwanted eavesdroppers and kiss-asses who had it out for either himself or Alfred. "One of our lady customers? A client! Really, Alfred, I thought we told you-"
"No, no!" Alfred interjected, shaking his head to further his point, "Not a client. The son of my landlord! He also runs a little diner in town! He doesn't like me working here and he said that if I had to have a part-time job while I'm in school I could go work for him! And that's the story of why I am quitting." He had a shit-eating grin once again plastered to his face, as if this was his life's accomplishment, not as if he was possibly committing professional (and personal) suicide.
Standing there, the Englishman's thick eyebrows began to furrow until they nearly shadowed his eyes. After a moment of utter silence, he finally let out a sigh, rubbing his temple to ease his throbbing forehead.
He had no idea why this fool even wanted to quit? It was a guaranteed job as long as he remained as attractive as he was. Even Arthur knew that the man in charge had an eye for pretty, young things (much to his chagrin, but he would never let the Owner know that). And Alfred was certainly attractive. He was tall, even for a young man of only 19, and he had a slender frame that cleverly hid his inhuman, and often stupid strength. His demeanor was that of a country-raised farm boy, polite and hard-working, which never failed to impress his clients and earn the doting admiration of every middle-aged woman who came into the club. In layman's terms, he was a catch, and there was NO WAY that the man in charge would let someone like him go so easily.
"Alfred, you know for a fact that you're that man's favorite. He handpicked you-" He made sure to stress this word to get the other to understand the severity of his words, "you, to be a Host at this club. That means for some reason that seems to escape me he likes you. And you should know that he will NOT allow this. And I know for a fact you know how scary he can be. Any place that has a man or woman that pleases him, he'll drive it into bankruptcy and take it over within the month, and when he gets tired of it, he'll sell it off. And worse, if he gets tired of a host or hostess, he'll fire them, no questions asked. So, no, I can't allow it. In any case, if I let you, then I'll get in a lot of trouble too, and I can't afford-"
"B-but…" A despondent pout took place of the once love-struck smile.
"Y-You know I don't have a choice!" Arthur blurted out. Honestly, how could Alfred expect him to do anything other than what was given to him as his task. The blasted yank should know where his loyalties lie, yet here he was, having this conversation anyways. In truth, he shouldn't even think of the possibility of offering a possible way for Alfred to worm his way into getting fired... but his eyes. He was so hurt and so desperate to live life with his new-found lover, and something about that spoke out to Arthur, though he himself was in no such situation. A elongated sigh emitted from his lips, and he slowly rubbed his temples, "but… If you do your job horribly, you can't control what Mr. Bonnefoy does afterwards, right?"
Alfred's smiled returned and he nodded fast, running to the door. "Yeah! Thanks so much!" he answered, before speeding back to his post. Arthur followed slowly, running his hair through his messy blond hair.
Really, what was that Alfred thinking? Again, Arthur sighed, shaking his head. It was getting too hot in here. Taking a quick assessment of the main room, he decided he could have a few moments of peace to himself, and he walked into the bathroom. It was fairly empty which meant that he could have a few moments of peace. His fingers traced the mock-crystal handles to the sink before he pulled on one, cold water falling gently from the spout. He cupped his small hands together, pooling a bit of the water before splashing some on his face.
"Hn... I guess I could be good-looking too...if I tried." Arthur muttered to no one, looking himself over in the mirror. After making a few comical faces, he chuckled, shaking his head a bit. "I guess green eyes can be popular too. Blue eyes aren't all that great... " He grabbed his chin, turning to get a few different profile glances at himself, "A-and girls like a baby face-"
'A feminine face' came his inner-voice, and he shook his head, trying to shake that thought from his mind.
"Wow...I need a haircut." Arthur tugged on his hair a bit, pouting at the shaggy mess that topped his head.
"So, do you mind telling me What was all that about?"
A shriek came from his Arthur's throat, his eyes wide as he finally noticed the owner's reflection in the mirror. How had he not noticed him? "M-Mister Bonnefoy! I-I thought you had business elsewhere today?" he stuttered out, in shock that the other man had decided to show up to work today.
It was odd that the french businessman had even showed up to work. Usually, he would spends his days with his 'contacts' scouting new recruits and new real estate, and his nights were spent at local bars, having a few drinks and getting to know a few of the local ladies.
"You telling me I cannot come to my own shop, Arthur?" The taller responded, standing up straight from his previous position, which was leaning against the wall. "that's very cruel of you. I thought I was the owner."
"No! I wasn't saying that!-"
"You didn't answer my question. What was all that about?" Business. Everything was business to Mister Bonnefoy.
Arthur looked over the face of his boss, trying to decide what was the best answer to his question. He could tell the older man was not in the mood for games from the way his lips contorted in its usual grimace, his periwinkle eyes gleaming dangerously. as if asking someone to even dare go against him once.
"Um… he just had a question about proper suit maintenance,"Arthur quickly lied, "I will be going over it with him tonight, so I will be unable to join you for dinner. Excuse me." Arthur bowed and left quickly, his heart pounding near out of his chest. This was not good. If Mr. Bonnefoy knew what had actually been discussed, both could lose their jobs, and maybe a few body parts on the way out.
The older, Mr. Bonnefoy, actually Francis by given name, followed his underling out of the restroom and stood by its door and watched Arthur sprint across the club, somehow managing not to bump into anyone as he did so. What was that man thinking? And why did he seem so nervous? Francis shook his head, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Hn. Only two left... Oh well. His need of nicotine far surpassed his desire to preserve the small tobacco sticks. Lighting one, he began to walk towards where Arthur had sprinted, seeing what the other was really up to.
Arthur had nearly knocked down Alfred when he rand up, grabbing the other by the scruff of his shirt before a client had the chance to walk up. Hurriedly, he began to tussle the other's clothing.
"Arty-" Alfred whined as he pushed against the smaller, "Stop! It took me all morning to get the tie right! I even had Matt help me!"
"Just shut up you great baboon! Let me do this and save BOTH our asses!" Arthur snapped back, finishing before they were in Francis's line of sight.
Francis walked up, looking at both of them with a grimace still on his face. "I see what you meant Arthur. He is unsightly. You are to show him the proper way to dress."
"Yes sir." the subordinate replied as he bowed his head to show acknowledgement to the other's command. It was all about modest submission to the command's given to him.
"Well, if that is how you are spending your night, then I am going out. Don't wait up and be sure to lock up."
With that, the Frenchman left, not noticing the lingering of the fern green eyes on his form.
Arthur couldn't help but sigh once again, his heart fluttering in his chest. He didn't understand why this always happened. Maybe his nerves were wound too tight? Perhaps tonight he should take a nice, soothing bath. Yes, thought should surely soothe his frazzled nerves.
"Hey Arty, I was wondering, are you and Mr. Bonnefoy going out?" asked Alfred innocently, a finger pressed comically to his lips as he thought. "I mean...You two live together."
Now Arthur was definitely sure that his poor nerves had reached their limit. At this rate, if he was victim of one more surprise, he may very well have a heart attack and die. A bath would not suffice in calming him down, no now he would need something stronger, perhaps a drink. Most likely whiskey or scotch. With the sudden outburst, he had found himself stumbling back, eyes wide open and mouth agape, completely dumb-founded by the blatancy of the other's question, not knowing exactly how to answer.
Alfred took this silence as an okay to keep talking, and continued his thought process. "Well, again you two DO live together and you like…take care of his daily needs and stuff and you're ALWAYS watching him, dude So I just thought you two were going out or something. What, am I wrong?"
"Of course you're wrong you dull-witted wanker!" screamed the scrutinized man, as he fumbled into a nearby seat. "Mr. Bonnefoy and I are merely distant relatives. When I was a child, an unfortunate accident took my parents from me and he ended up taking me in and raising me. Now I stay by his side to return that kindness and perhaps pay him back for all that he has done for me." As the words staggered out of his mouth, he felt heat rising in his cheeks. "Th-that's all."
"Really?" responded Alfred, who stood lazily across from him.
"Y-yeah…i-is that really how you and everyone else perceives it? Do you all think that Mr. Bonnefoy and I are l-lovers?"
With that statement, Alfred's usual smile grew into a more wicked, mischievous smirk. "I never said lovers," he remarked, "so that means you DO like him."
The brit rose from his chair as if it were on fire. "N-no! No I don't! Don't say that!"
Alfred let out a laugh, and he hit his new friend on the back hard. "Don't worry! I won't tell anyone!"
"Tell anyone what? There's nothing to tell! Just keep quiet!" Arthur protested, bringing a shaking hand to his throbbing forehead. "B-besides...even if I liked Mr. Bonnefoy...I am just the manager in his club...n-nothing else..."
"So...you do like him."
"Drop it."
"But."
"I said. Drop. It." For the first time, venom laced Arthur's words and he glared a hole through the other's chest, all signs warning the younger to not test the older's patience.
Alfred nodded, sighing and shrugging. "Whatever. But thanks for the advice, gonna get back to my customers now. Bye!"
Arthur sat alone when Alfred ran off and he tried to take in a deep breath. This frightened Arthur a little bit… this man now knew something about him he had tried to hide for years…this could NOT end well.